


The Fear of Falling Apart

by blindinglights



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindinglights/pseuds/blindinglights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles keeps traveling through time to different points of Derek's life with no idea why it's happening. One moment he's decorating a Christmas tree and the next moment he's in the middle of the forest, staring at the Hale house all decorated for the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fear of Falling Apart

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this back in November when I was listening to music and procrastinating both my teen wolf big bang and my programming homework (UnrealScript and UDK is the bane of my existence). And then I stopped working on it and let it sit in my folder on my laptop for weeks before Christmas was steadily growing near and I thought, what the hell, I'll finish it by Christmas and post it. I wanted to write a time travel and a christmas fic, and it somehow turned into this.

Everyone is spending Christmas together this year. Stiles is excited, because he’s never done the holidays at this big of a scale before. Scott and his mom are coming over for dinner, Allison and her father, and Derek and Isaac will be there too. It feels like one big happy family, and after all the shit they’ve been through, he knows this will be good for them. 

Now, Stiles is sitting by the tree as he attempts to decorate it. They’re four weeks away from Christmas, and this tree has to be decorated before then. And he needs to put things up throughout the rest of the house, and somehow, he needs to talk Derek into helping to put up lights outside. 

“You could help me do this instead of sitting over there, reading,” Stiles says as he tries to untangle the mess he pulled out of the attic. He’s not even sure these work, but he has backups, new stuff he bought at the store just the other day. 

“Looks like you’ve got it,” Derek replies back without even looking up. There’s a small smile on Derek’s face and Stiles throws something at him, a too-tangled mess of tinsel.

Derek throws it back as he finally sets his book down beside him. 

“You need to get up off that couch and help,” Stiles says. “I _could_ do this by myself, but where’s the fun in that? Come on, don’t be such a lazy wolf.”

“I’m not untangling that mess,” Derek says. “We should just buy new tinsel. It’ll look better.”

Stiles smiles, and feels half-tempted to throw more of the tinsel he can’t seem to untangle. “Come on, Derek –“ Stiles starts to say, but then the room is spinning, the entire place smells weird, and there’s this strange light where everything else should be.

\--

When everything settles, he’s on his hands and knees, staring down at dirt and leaves. When he looks up, he notices he’s in the middle of a forest. In the distance he can see what he’s pretty sure is the Hale house. It’s no longer a burnt shell. It’s surrounded in Christmas lights. He’s not close, not for them to find him, and he stands up. 

_What the fuck_ , he thinks and then says it out loud as he looks around at everything. 

He dusts off the dirt clinging to his jeans and pulls leaves out of his hair, and then he sets out to get out of the woods and go into town.

It takes him about fifteen minutes to get into town, and when he finally reaches it, he sees everyone running around in preparation for the holiday season. He doesn’t just see _people_ , but he sees his dad and a younger version of himself trying to get a small tree into the back of his dad’s pickup truck. It’s weird to see him small and holding part of a Christmas tree as his dad tells him to be careful. Down a little ways, Stiles sees them, sees Derek and Cora and another young girl that Stiles is sure is Laura. They’re all laughing, sticking close together and it’s depressing, because Stiles knows that eventually is when everything crashes around them. He doesn’t know how much longer Derek has here with his sisters, wrapped up in the comfort of his entire family. His _pack_.

He looks back to where his younger self and his dad are trying to get a Christmas tree into the pick-up. A harried old man is trying to help them tie it into the truck bed and get a tarp to cover it, but his younger self isn’t listening to his dad as he tells him to keep it steady. 

“I want _that_ one,” catches Stiles’ attention, and he looks to see a young Lydia peering into a store as she tugs on her mother’s skirt. Stiles can’t tell what she’s looking at from where he stands, but it’s probably something that’s fancy and expensive. 

Derek’s closer to him now. His sisters are laughing at something that Derek must have said and Stiles thinks about how his Derek doesn’t laugh and joke this easily and immediately sees the differences the fire made. 

Stiles hesitates, trying to tell himself to keep his mouth shut for _once_. But he was never really good at that, was he? “Derek!” Stiles calls out and then he clamps a hand to his mouth.

Derek’s looking at him now, his head cocked to the side. “How do you know my name?” Derek asks. Beside him, his sisters are suppressing giggles.

“He looks about your age, Der,” Laura says, nudging her brother in the side. “Maybe he’s in one of your classes.”

“I, uh,” Stiles says nervously. He doubts he can just say _I traveled from the future_ , even though he knows Derek will know he’s telling the truth. “Just, uh. Kind of do?”

“Okay,” Derek says slowly, looking even more confused. 

“Come on, Derek,” Cora says, tugging on Derek’s arm. “We promised mom we’d be home for dinner.”

Derek walks away, looking back every now and then like he’s still trying to figure out who Stiles is and how Stiles knows who he is. 

Stiles waits for a few minutes, until Derek and his sisters are far enough away, and then he follows.

\--

The Hale house is still lit up like a Christmas tree when Stiles gets there. He’s standing closer to the house than when he first got here – however that even _happened_. There are lights adorning every inch of the house. There’s even a plastic Santa statue attached to the roof, all lit up and waving an arm. Stiles wants to laugh, because it’s nothing like how Stiles pictured Derek’s childhood. The house looks warm and inviting. To be honest, he never even pictured Talia as the one to decorate for Christmas. But apparently the entire family loves Christmas. 

And then he remembers that Peter lives here, too, and Stiles cracks up laughing. 

He takes a seat on the grass, looking up at the Hale house as he watches people pass by the big windows. He’s pretty sure what he’s looking at is the living room. He wonders what’s going on inside, what they’re having for dinner, if they’re singing _Christmas Carols_. Stiles laughs at the image, of Derek singing anything Christmas-related, because the guy is always telling Stiles to shut up when he starts. No Christmas spirit at all, it’s a shame. 

“I’ve been put back in time and I’m looking at a Hale Christmas,” Stiles whispers to himself. He hears sticks break not even a moment later, and then he’s being tackled to the ground, strong hands holding him to the ground and his face stuck into the dirt. _Wonderful_ , he thinks, just wonderful.

“You _followed_ me home?” he hears in his ear, voice dangerously low, like a warning. 

“Derek,” Stiles tries, but Derek presses his face harder against the ground, his hands holding a little too tightly and he can feel where he’s probably going to have bruises. Future Derek is going to be furious, and it’s going to be interesting to tell him that his past self is the one who _inflicted_ the bruises. A laugh bubbles up at that, and he laughs and laughs and Derek’s grip loosens some.

“Shut up,” Derek says. “You know my name, you followed me home, now who are you?”

Stiles sobers some, and he says, “Dude, you would _not_ believe me. Just trust me to not be a hunter, okay? Your family is safe.” _For now_. Just thinking that has a pang of sadness hitting him and he can feel it as Derek hesitates, hears the way his heart beats a little differently. “Your family is safe, you’re safe, I’m just—“ _Lie, believable lie, fucking werewolves_ – “I’m just sitting in the woods.” 

_Not_ a believable lie. At all. Because Derek’s grip has gone back to almost too tight and there’s a knee in his back and it’s really uncomfortable. 

“Dude, seriously,” Stiles says. “Can you please lay off the death grip? I’m going to have bruises to last me years, and my boyfriend isn’t going to like seeing bruises.”

“Is that a threat?” Derek asks and Stiles just cracks up laughing again, because Future Derek kicking his teenage self’s ass would be _hilarious_. Derek probably would, is the thing, but he’s not sure if that’s funny or just really sad. “Would you stop laughing?” 

“Wow, teenage you is kind of not very different from future you,” Stiles replies with and then his eyes go wide and then, “Ah, damnit. You’d think I could keep my big mouth shut.”

Derek’s moving away from him quickly like he’s been burned, but when Stiles gets off the ground and dusts off the dirt clinging to his clothes, he looks up to see Derek looking like he’s going through a million questions to ask.

Stiles wags a finger at him. “No, seriously, _no_. No questions, no answers, no. I said _nothing_.”

“No,” Derek says. “You’re going to give me answers.” There’s an _or else_ at that end of that sentence, Stiles can hear it. This Derek isn’t really different than his older self. This Derek has the same effective glare, the one glare that Derek used to use on Stiles all the time when they first met. 

“It’ll ruin _everything_ ,” Stiles tries to explain. “Like, you’ve seen Back to the Future, right? Nothing ever good happens when you get in the middle of past or future stuff. You stay clear away. It is best to let everything happen like it’s supposed to.”

“You’re the one following me,” Derek points out. 

“Yeah, but I’m trying to observe from afar.” Derek looks unimpressed. “I’m not meddling. You’re the one being all protective werewolf and attacking me out in the woods.”

“Who are you?” Derek asks. “And you’re going to tell me, right now.”

“Or what? You’re going to rip my throat out with your teeth? Slam me against a few trees? I’ve been there, buddy, it used to be your default answer to everything.” Stiles’ mouth shuts after that, his eyes going wide again and he swears under his breath.

“What are you talking about? You can’t be from the future. This is crazy. Who are you?” Derek sounds frustrated now, a little bit annoyed, and a lot pissed off.

Stiles sighs. This is starting to become unavoidable. Apparently no, he can’t keep his big mouth shut. He can just picture Future Derek lecturing him about how he’s an idiot who can’t just stay away and know how to shut up when it’s important. But this time, Stiles will be able to say that his younger self isn’t any better, so he can just shut it.

“Okay,” Stiles gives in, rubbing his temples to ease the oncoming headache. Fucking _Derek_. “Okay,” Stiles repeats. “I’m from the future. And yes, I know you in the future. And no, I can’t tell you anything more, because I’ll probably fuck everything up, knowing my shitty luck. I think that’s why I’m here in the first place. Shitty luck.”

“You’re not lying to me,” Derek says. He can see being in Derek’s shoes and thinking this entire thing sounds like something crazy, straight out of science fiction. 

“Yeah, no, I wish I was,” Stiles says. “But I’m not.”

“How are you here?”

“No freakin’ idea, actually, your guess is as good as mine.” He remembers sitting down next to the Christmas tree, putting decorations on it and talking to everyone. And then _boom_ , he was here. He didn’t even get to put the best ornaments on the tree yet. 

Derek hesitates for a moment, like he’s about to ask a question, or say something, or _do_ something. This Derek still has his future counterparts mannerisms. They still glare the same, and they still have the same attitude, the same protective streak, all of it. This one is just younger, broken a little but not yet to the extent of how he’ll be later on. 

“What’s your name?” Derek asks, still eyeing him carefully.

“Stiles,” Stiles says.

“What kind of name is Stiles?” Derek asks.

“It’s a nickname, shut up, it’s a cool name.” 

Derek falls silent again. “You can come in,” Derek finally says, looking up at the house. “We were about to have dinner. My mom is probably wondering why I stormed out of the house.”

“Can she hear us?” Stiles asks, worrying a little that she did. 

Derek shrugs but says, “Yeah.”

“Oh, awkward, I don’t need any questions from them, too.” 

Derek rolls his eyes and says, “It’s fine. Just hurry up. She’ll ask more questions if we don’t get inside soon.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, and follows him inside. 

\--

The Hale house is beautiful, breathtakingly so, and Stiles looks around in awe. The staircase is decorated for Christmas, red and green wrapped around the railings. From the corner of his eye, Stiles can see their Christmas tree.

“Your house is amazing,” Stiles tells him. 

A kid whirls past Stiles then, almost knocking him over, and the kid barely yells out, “Sorry!” 

Stiles raises an eyebrow, he asks, “Cousin?”

Derek laughs quietly. “Yeah, sorry about that, that’s my uncle Peter’s son.” Derek hesitates and then asks, “But you already knew that.”

“Yeah,” Stiles lies and doesn’t miss the look that flashes over Derek’s face. Derek caught it. “Didn’t recognize him.”

Derek leads him into the living room. There’s a Christmas tree that’s decorated with ornaments, colorful tinsel, and lights. 

“Who’s your friend?” Stiles hears from behind, and he spins around to look, only to see Peter Hale. He looks different than the Peter he’s used to. He looks… _nicer_. He looks happy, and he’s smiling in a way that doesn’t scream he has horrible, evil plans. 

“Stiles,” he answers with. “Friend from school,” he lies, but if Peter caught that lie, he doesn’t give anything away to say he did. Stiles has been around werewolves enough, sometimes he can hide a lie. Not always though.

“I forgot he was going to come over to study,” Derek lies next, and Peter doesn’t even catch that one either.

“Studying during break? Your mom will be thrilled to hear that.”

Derek shrugs. “There’s nothing better to do,” he says. “Have to keep my spot on the team."

Peter smiles. “Well, he made it just in time for dinner. Talia is making her famous lasagna.” And Peter is fucking _cheery_ , and even though he likes seeing Peter happy and not some crazy, creepy werewolf that he always had to deal with in his time. Stiles feels like he’s in the fucking _Twilight Zone_. 

When Peter walks away, Derek says, “Why are you looking at him like that?” His voice is quiet, almost too quiet to hear.

“Like what?” Stiles asks.

“Like you’ve never seen him before,” Derek replies. “Have you not met Peter before?”

“No, I’ve met him. I know the guy.”

“Then _what_?” 

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. What did I tell you about questions? I’m not answering them, dude, so please stop asking me.”

\--

Derek has a _big_ family, a lot bigger than he thought he did. Stiles knew there was a lot of Hales and that a lot of people died in the fire, but he guesses he just wasn’t really thinking about it. There are Derek’s parents, Cora, Laura and Derek has two twin brothers. Then there’s Peter and his wife, along with their two kids. Derek has an aunt, who’s his father’s sister, along with her husband and daughter. There are a _lot_ of Hales, and Stiles has a hard time remembering everyone’s name.

The food is delicious. There’s a lot of it, and Stiles ends up piling seconds onto his plate, all the while thanking Mrs. Hale repeatedly for it. She’s nice, not at all like how Stiles imagined her, because while she’s the Alpha of the Hale pack, she takes good care of her pack and she’s all warm smiles and motherly care. Stiles wonders if Laura was similar after the fire, well equipped to be Alpha like it was second nature. His Derek barely talks about his family, only giving out information every now and then and Cora never says a thing about them. She’s just as quiet about it as her brother is. 

“Your mom is an awesome cook,” Stiles tells Derek as they head up to his room. 

“You sound like you’ve never been over for dinner before,” Derek says.

“I have,” Stiles says. 

“You’re lying again.” Derek narrows his eyes at Stiles. 

“I have,” Stiles insists, and starts walking faster, even though he has no idea where he’s going. “Now where’s your room?”

“This way,” Derek points to the left, down the long hallway. 

When Stiles reaches Derek’s room, he looks around at everything, taking in Derek’s childhood bedroom. It’s typical teenager stuff, a basketball on the floor, trophies, Derek’s basketball uniform on the ground. “You never told me you played basketball in high school.”

“I’ve been playing since freshman year,” Derek says with a shrug. “I like playing. I’m one of the best on the team.”

“Of course,” Stiles says, nodding. “You’re a werewolf. It’s natural for you to be good at something.”

“If I wasn’t a werewolf, I’d still be good at it,” Derek says. “I know how to play.”

“Great,” Stiles says. “I’m glad. That’s great confidence to have.”

“Do you play sports?” Derek asks.

“I did in high school. I played lacrosse. I sucked and spent most of my time on the bench, but I eventually made first line.” 

“You’re human and you played sports well,” Derek points out.

“Oh, I know you can be human and play well,” Stiles says. “But being a werewolf helps, right? It’s a gift?”

Derek nods. “Yeah.”

“Good, always think it’s something special and great, and never forget it. No matter what.” 

“Okay,” Derek says, and then throws blankets a pillow onto the floor. 

\--

Stiles wakes up from usual nightmares, sweating and shaking on the floor beside Derek’s bed. He can see Derek’s blue eyes shinning down, worried and half-wolfed out. “Stiles?” Derek asks. 

“Nightmares,” Stiles grits out, burying his face into the pillow Derek gave him to use. It smells like Derek, _this_ Derek, and Stiles misses his Derek more than anything right now. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Derek asks and he sounds so timid, shy and so unlike future Derek that Stiles’ heart aches. 

It is probably a bad idea to say it, because he shouldn’t give away details of the future, but he’s probably going to hate himself anyway when he gets back. He’s done enough damage, he thinks. 

“Usually,” Stiles starts, “Your future self holds me at night or pulls me close in order to help with the nightmares.” 

“Oh,” Derek says quietly. And then, “Before you said you had someone. Is that me?” and Stiles closes his eyes tightly.

“I said no more questions, Derek.”

“Why?” Derek asks. 

“I told you already,” Stiles says. “Nothing ever good happens when you mess with the past or future. You let it be, okay? So I am not going to answer any questions, Derek. I’ve already done enough damage.”

“Can you at least answer one question for me?” Derek asks.

Stiles eyes him for a moment, weighing how he should answer it. “Sure,” he says.

“What are your nightmares about?”

Stiles looks up from his pillow, meeting Derek’s eyes. “Darkness,” he says. “Evil.” 

\--

When Stiles wakes up, he’s still in younger Derek’s room. Derek’s still asleep, his face smooshed against his pillow. He pokes Derek in the face and watches as Derek’s face twitches. He pokes again and laughs when Derek’s hand comes up to grab his.

“Stop poking me,” Derek says. 

“Still same reaction,” Stiles says and laughs gleefully when Derek opens his eyes and fixes Stiles with a glare.

“It’s winter break, I am going back to sleep,” Derek says, turning away from Stiles. 

“Hey,” Stiles says, indignantly. “I don’t travel all of the way from the future so you can sleep all day.” 

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“What year is it?” Stiles asks, ignoring him. 

“2004.” Derek peers up from his pillow, eying him curiously. “Why?”

“No reason, I just haven’t actually asked _you_ that question yet. You know, it’d be nice to know what year I’m in.” 

“Okay.” Derek lays his head back down on his pillow, but he’s facing Stiles now. 

“So you’re going to be sixteen next week. You’re what, a sophomore, right?” _Last year_ , he thinks bitterly, _this is your last Christmas with them_. He feels sick suddenly. 

“Yes,” Derek says. “You haven’t told me what year you’re from.”

Stiles waves a hand dismissively. “Not important. But you do need to get up. Come on, lazy wolf.”

“I told you I’m sleeping in,” Derek protests. 

“It’s noon, you’ve slept in enough,” Stiles says, trying to grab Derek’s hand and pull him out. He gets nowhere, because Derek’s holding on to his bed for dear life and he can tell his claws are out. He really doesn’t want to risk pissing off mama Hale. “I am so giving future you total shit for this, by the way. You’re not going to live this down.”

“I don’t sleep in anymore?”

“No, actually. You wake up at ass o’clock in the morning and go running. You’ve even tried waking me up for running. I am not letting you get away with this, okay, and you’re getting up. Come on, Derek. _Up_.”

It takes several more tries before Derek finally gets out of bed, if not reluctant with grumbling under his breath. When Derek’s dressed and awake, Stiles drags him downstairs. The house looks empty, but when they reach the kitchen, Laura is sitting on the counter.

“Morning, Der,” Laura says, and she’s fucking _leering_. “Good study session?”

“It’s afternoon,” Derek helpfully grumbles. 

“Morning, noon, whatever, you just got up,” Laura says. “Winter break turns you into such a lazy, grumpy wolf.”

“Where are mom and dad?” Derek asks. 

“Shopping. Cora’s with them and so are the twins.” 

“Everyone else?” Derek inquires next as he rummages in the refrigerator. 

“Out. I don’t know if they’re shopping or going for a run.” Laura jumps down from the counter. She steps closer to Stiles, and there’s this glint to her eyes that he can tell means trouble. He doesn’t even know her, but he’s seen a similar look with Erica. “I thought Derek didn’t know who you were, but here you are.”

“I’m in his classes,” Stiles says. 

“ _Really_? Because with the way he acted, it seemed like he was surprised you knew his name. Derek doesn’t forget people easily.” 

Stiles shrugs. “Maybe I’m forgettable?” he tries.

Laura narrows her eyes and very slowly backs Stiles against the counter. “Mom doesn’t easily let people in, either. And you’re lying, and I think mom can tell too. What are you hiding?”

“Laura, stop,” Derek says, placing a hand on her shoulder. She shrugs it off. 

“I told Derek outside last night. He asked something similar. I asked if anyone else could hear and he said yes. So, maybe you already know the answer to that question and you don’t believe me?” 

“Time travel doesn’t exist,” she says. “You’re a lying little shit, and if you hurt my brother, I’m going to—“

“Wow, nice, threatening bodily harm. That just always solves shit, right? Ten out of ten, best way to get your point across.” 

“Sarcastic, little asshole,” she says.

“Laura, come on, stop. He’s not lying,” Derek tries again, but this time he actually manages to get her to step away from Stiles and give him some space. Stiles shoots him a grateful look, but Laura still looks pissed. 

“People don’t travel through time! That can’t be possible.”

“Yeah, well, life is saying something completely different here. And believe me, I’m just as surprised.”

Laura looks between Derek and Stiles, as if she’s trying to listen closely for a lie, but there isn’t one. Her face softens after a moment. “You’re not lying,” she says, eyes wide. 

“I told you.”

“What’s it like, in the future?” she asks then.

Stiles thinks, _it’s terrible at times_ and _I never got to meet you then, I’m so sorry_. What he says is, “ _No_ , I already told Derek I wasn’t going to tell him anything, so I’m not telling you either. I’m not causing some fucked up time rift just because you two are curious.” Stiles mimes zipping his mouth shut. “Not saying a _word_.” 

“Can you tell me how you got here? How far in the future you’re from? Anything?” she tries, almost pleading. 

Stiles sighs. “One, I have no idea. Not a single clue. I was decorating a Christmas tree, and then here I was. Your guess is as good as mine. Two, it’s really not important what year I’m from. I didn’t tell Derek and I won’t tell you either.”

“Telling us what year you’re from won’t mess things up. Come on, where are you from?” she more than begs.

“Less than ten, but more than seven,” Stiles finally gives in. 

“You’re an annoying asshole, you know that?” she says. “How old are you then?”

“Eighteen.” 

“So are you the same age as Derek? Is there another you out there somewhere? Tell me something, come on,” Laura more than begs.

“No, no, and _no_ ,” Stiles says. “I’m not telling you anything. I think you’re worse than your brother with these questions. It’s not important about where I’m from. So just leave it.”

“Fine,” Laura huffs out, crossing her arms.

“So, change of topic,” Stiles says. “Do you have anything good to eat for lunch?”

\--

When Derek’s family gets home, they go outside and Stiles watches as Derek’s cousins and brothers chase Derek around the house and out into the woods. Stiles lays out on the grass, propped up by his elbows. Derek’s laughing, dodging them easily and throwing them off whenever they manage to jump on his back. 

“You should join us,” Derek says.

“I’ll pass,” Stiles says. “You’re too fast for me, I won’t be able to keep up.”

“Come on, Stiles!” Derek’s youngest cousin says, tugging on his shirt. Stiles is pretty sure his name is Andrew or Jake. He looks like a mini Peter. He’s adorable and insistent and when Stiles shakes his head, he puts on the best puppy dog look that he’s certain could rival Scott’s. 

“Fine, okay,” Stiles says, and lets Derek pull him to his feet. Stiles ends up losing his balance, falling against Derek’s chest. When he looks up, he’s met with a curious, playful look on Derek’s face. Stiles swallows and thinks, _you’re not my Derek and you’re only sixteen_. He tries to squash down all the feelings, shove them away. 

“Come on, we’re heading out into the woods. You should try to keep up,” Derek says. “Try not to trip over anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right on that,” Stiles says. “Keep in mind I’m the human here and it’s impossible to move as quick as you.”

“I have a human cousin,” Derek points out, pointing at Peter’s eldest kid. “He moves faster than you, though.”

“Yeah, well his dad is a werewolf. He has werewolf genes, okay? I am one hundred percent human here.”

Derek rolls his eyes and starts tugging Stiles into the woods.

Later on that night, Talia gets Stiles and Derek to help her in the kitchen. Stiles’ heart aches at the sight of Derek working alongside his mother in the kitchen, and the easy way they joke around with each other. It makes him long for his Derek, to wrap him up in his arms and try for some sort of comfort in their own way, because god. _Moms_. 

It hurts.

\--

Stiles falls asleep on the floor beside Derek’s bed again, but he wakes up from nightmares again, too. This time Derek is crouched on the floor, shaking him awake. Stiles reaches out to try and grab hold of something, before he settles a firm grip on Derek’s shirt. 

“Stiles, shhh,” Derek says softly. “It’s okay. You’re in my room. You’re okay.”

Stiles groans, hitting his head against the pillow. “Was I saying anything?”

“You were calling for help,” Derek replies. “You were, uh, you were calling for me.”

Stiles looks up. He tries to read the look on his face, because he sure as hell can’t read the tone of Derek’s voice correctly, but it’s too dark in here. “Oh,” Stiles says. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Derek says again, and then he’s grabbing Stiles’ hand. “Come on, you can sleep up there on my bed.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m okay where I’m at.”

“Didn’t you say that—“

“Yeah, yeah I did.”

“It’s fine,” Derek says. “I’m still the same Derek, just younger.”

Stiles wants to disagree. He wants to tell him how they’re not quite the same Derek at all, because his Derek has gone through hell and back and it changed him a lot. And it hurts to watch as this Derek runs around with his family and enjoys his life. He’s happy now, right here. 

_My Derek is broken_ , Stiles thinks as he lets Derek pull him into bed. Stiles’ Derek may not be as broken as when Stiles first met him, because they’ve all spent years after everything trying to heal each others wounds. All of their wounds will never truly be healed, but it’s gotten to the point that they’re all comfortable where they’re at, they can share a few laughs without it feeling like a chore. 

“Why do you have nightmares?” Derek asks quietly once Stiles is settled by his side, head pillowed against his chest. 

“I did something to save someone I care about. It did something to me,” Stiles says, because he can say this without there being any consequences. “A darkness around my heart. I get these nightmares. They used to be really bad. I used to have panic attacks in class and I’d think I was asleep, dreaming things, but I’d be awake the whole time. It’s never that bad now, but I still have nightmares, some nights worse than others.”

“And I help you?” Derek asks. 

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, wishes he were with his Derek now. “You do. We kind of help each other.”

Derek falls silent. Eventually Derek asks, “We’re together, aren’t we?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t answer that,” Stiles says. 

“You keep avoiding it, you’re never giving me a straight answer. Telling me isn’t going to mess up time, Stiles, you need to stop worrying.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Stiles whispers, face buried against Derek’s chest. 

“You won’t,” Derek whispers back. 

\--

Stiles wakes up to a hand at his throat and blue eyes staring at him. 

“I’m going to guess that this is one, not where I fell asleep and two, still not back where I’m supposed to be,” Stiles says. It seems to be the wrong thing to come out and say, because the hand on his throat tightens.

“How did you get in here?” Derek snarls and Stiles’ hands come up in an attempt to free himself from Derek’s stronghold. 

“If you let go,” Stiles manages out.

“I don’t think I’m going to do that,” Derek says. 

Stiles can feel Derek’s claws against his neck, sharp reminders that if this Derek felt like it, he could easily hurt him. Stiles swallows. 

“What year am I in?” Stiles asks instead. 

“2006,” Derek replies. 

“Oh, Derek,” Stiles says. 

The hand at his neck tightens until Stiles can’t breathe, and he can see the gleam of Derek’s fangs in the moonlight. 

“How did you know my name?” 

It’s been one year after the fire. This Derek is hurt, angry and trusts nobody but his own sister. Stiles doesn’t expect anything less than a protective brother trying to make sure nothing happens here.

Stiles tries to pull Derek’s hands away, tries to tell him without words that he can’t fucking _breathe_. “Please,” Stiles says through a gasp. “Let me go.”

When Derek lets go enough for Stiles to breathe, Stiles coughs and tries to regain himself enough to speak. This bruise is going to be a little more difficult to explain when he gets back, unless Derek somehow remembers all of this. But somehow, this Derek doesn’t remember Stiles from before. Fucking _Twilight Zone_. 

“You’re going to tell me how you got in here and how you knew my name, or I’m going to—“

“Rip my throat out, with your teeth?” Stiles guesses. “I told past you this before. I’ve been there, buddy, and these threats are fucking stale, dude.”

“ _How_ did you get in here?” Derek growls. 

“I don’t know! Okay? I don’t actually know how I got here! I keep saying this. I’m from the future, all right? All I remember was that I was decorating the Christmas tree in my living room and then I ended up in 2004. I was there for a few days. And then now here I am.”

“I can’t hear a lie,” Derek says.

“Well, no, of course you can’t,” Stiles says. “Because I’m not lying.”

“Magic, it has to be some kind of magic. What are you doing to me?”

“Nothing! Jesus, why can’t you just believe me when I say time travel? Yes, I know, it’s very Back to the Future meets the Twilight Zone. But whatever happened, _happened_.” It’d be great to know why he keeps popping into different time periods of Derek’s life. And then he thinks about it, replaying Derek’s comment of magic and, _oh_. “Magic, though, that may not be far fetched.”

“What?”

“Magic. Maybe someone cursed me? So now I’m popping into different time periods of your life. Maybe for a reason? I don’t fucking know what that reason would be. How am I supposed to know?” 

Derek finally lets go of him and Stiles sighs with relief. “Do you want anything?”

“Water?” Stiles asks. “And is it Christmastime here?”

“It’s in a week,” Derek says as he leads him out into the living room. 

There’s a small Christmas tree in a corner of the living room. It’s not heavily decorated like the tree was at the Hale house. It’s still pretty and Stiles pokes at one of the ornaments and listens as it jingles.

“We didn’t get a tree last year,” he hears Derek say, and he turns around to see him with two bottles of water. There’s a look about him that reminds him of the first time they met, the sadness that seems to envelop his entire being, hidden behind a mask of anger. “We didn’t feel like celebrating after the fire, but this year Laura really wanted a tree. She wanted to try and salvage some tradition we had.”

“I like it,” Stiles says, giving him a smile. “It’s pretty. You shouldn’t give up on Christmas, Derek. You should hold onto the good memories.”

“Yeah,” Derek says quietly. “We should.”

Later, when they’re sitting on the couch watching bad television, Derek asks, “What’s your name?”

“My name’s Stiles.”

“What kind of name is a Stiles?” 

Stiles laughs, stealing the remote from Derek to change the channel. “It’s a nickname. You don’t want to know my real name.”

“Okay,” Derek says and then makes grabby hands for the remote. “Give that back.”

“No,” Stiles says around a smile. “I got it.”

\--

The first thing Laura says when she walks in is, “Who’s the cutie?”

Derek looks up from the couch, his gaze going between the two and says, “Stiles.”

Grinning, Stiles waves at her. “Yep, Stiles.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, looking between them. “Where’d you meet?”

“Bar,” Derek says. 

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees easily. “We met at a bar. We decided that our mutual secret love of shitty television was a lot better than what the New York night scene had to offer.”

She narrows her eyes, and she looks just like she did back in 2004. “You’re lying,” she says.

“Laura,” Derek says, a warning in his voice. “Back off.”

“How’d you meet?” she says. “How did you _really_ meet?”

“Time travel,” Stiles says, because what the hell. “Well, right here was time travel. I met him differently in my time.”

“You’re still lying,” she says. 

“No, actually, I’m not there,” Stiles tells her. “And you’d know that, because you can hear when someone is lying. You werewolves are fucking lie detector tests.”

Her eyes flash red at that, claws out. Beside him, there’s a growl building in Derek’s chest. “Derek, why are you hanging around a human who knows about our secret? Didn’t you learn before?”

Hurt flashes across Derek’s face. “Laura,” Derek tries again.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Stiles tries to assure her. “I’m not a hunter. I’m just a time traveller who keeps landing in different points of Derek’s life for some reason that I don’t even know.”

“If you hurt my brother,” she growls. “I swear, I’ll—“

“You’ll hurt me, I know,” Stiles says. “Past you already told me that.”

“Yeah, and I’ll make good on that promise,” she says. 

“I know,” Stiles says again, and is relieved when she smiles. 

\--

Derek hands him one of his coats the next day and says, “We’re going out.”

“Out? As in out in _that_?” 

“Yes,” Derek says with an eye roll. “Out in that. It’s why I’m handing you a coat.”

“It’s just it’s freezing out there and I’ve never really seen snow before.”

“You haven’t? Then where are you from?”

“California, Beacon Hills.”

“I go back? Why would I go back there?”

Stiles shrugs. “You just do. Then you leave again, but you come back again eventually.”

“And you haven’t seen snow before?” 

Stiles shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Derek shoves the coat into Stiles’ hands and says, “I’ll be right back.” When he comes back into the living room, he’s holding a pair of gloves. “You’ll need these.”

“Are we going to play in the snow?” 

“Maybe,” Derek says as he picks up his keys. “Maybe go ice skating. Maybe just go run the errands I need to do.”

“Okay,” Stiles says easily, smiling down at the gloves and coat in his hands. “I never thought you’d be the type for playing in the snow and ice skating.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek says. “Come on, lets get out of here.”

\--

They make it to the rink. It’s freezing and located outside and Stiles shivers despite the coat he’s wearing. 

“Jesus, it’s freezing,” Stiles says. “You owe me hot chocolate after this, dude. I’ll need it.”

Derek rolls his eyes and grabs for Stiles’ hand, leading him out onto the ice. “You’ll live,” Derek says. “Ever ice skated?”

“Yeah, a lot back in high school,” Stiles says as he takes one cautionary step onto the ice. Derek’s still holding his hand, and he’s watching Stiles closely like he expects Stiles to fall flat on his ass. When Stiles slips a little, Derek’s there to catch him with an arm around his waist.

“I thought you said you’ve been,” Derek says. 

“Yeah, but it’s been a while though.” Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck. “Stopped going in junior year.” 

“Any reason?” Derek asks.

“Several,” Stiles replies. “But I won’t tell you.”

“Anything you will tell me?” 

“No,” Stiles says. “I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. If you’ve ever seen Back to the Future, you’ll know that it’s a very bad idea to do that.” 

“Telling me a few things won’t ruin anything, Stiles,” Derek says. “And that’s just a movie. How do you know that’s how things really are?”

“Because,” Stiles says. “I just do and I’m not going to risk anything. Bad enough I think I did enough damage before, the first time I traveled through time.”

“Okay,” Derek says. “That’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says. “I just can’t.”

“I get it.” Derek’s other arm comes up around his waist, and it feels familiar, _too_ familiar and Stiles has to remind himself that this isn’t _his_ Derek. He can’t lean in and kiss him like he wants to. But all the same, his eyes linger on Derek’s mouth, the way the cold turns Derek’s cheeks a faint pink color. When he looks up and meets Derek’s eyes, a curious look flashes across Derek’s face. 

“Can we get some food after? I’m getting hungry and you still owe me that hot chocolate.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

Stiles smiles and pulls away from Derek, skating away from him and laughing when Derek follows after him. 

\--

Stiles wakes up in the middle of the night sweating and gasping for breath. His throat feels raw and he’s pretty sure he was screaming. In the corner of the room, he can see blue eyes glowing in the dark.

“Derek?” Stiles rasps out. He clears his throat and tries again. “Derek, don’t sit in the corner like a creeper wolf.”

“You were having a nightmare,” Derek says quietly. “You were screaming for help. For me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Stiles says. 

“I get nightmares too, about fire, my family, her,” Derek says. “My sister, she helps me. Does anything help you?”

“You,” Stiles confesses, feeling overwhelmed by Derek’s own confession. “In my time, you help me.”

Derek moves closer, until he’s standing beside the couch, looking down at Stiles. “How?”

“You hold me and tell me—“ Stiles stops, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you this. I already did before, with younger you and I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m going to mess up everything and I can’t risk that, Derek. I just can’t.”

“Come on,” Derek says, lacing his hand in Stiles’, urging him to get up. And Stiles lets him lead him to his room and lets him tug him into bed. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Stiles says.

“What did you tell my other self?” Derek asks.

“I’m scared,” Stiles says quietly against Derek’s chest and this entire thing feels like a huge déjà vu. 

“Of what?” Derek asks, just as quietly.

“I’m scared of losing you,” Stiles confesses. “I don’t want to lose you, Derek. I _can’t_.”

“You won’t,” Derek says, and it sounds like a promise. 

\--

Stiles wakes up wrapped up in covers, the smell of bacon coming from somewhere and the sound of kids laughing. When he opens his eyes, it’s to Derek staring at him. He looks older.

“You’re not my Stiles,” Derek says right away.

“What year am I in?” Stiles asks.

“2021,” Derek says. “You’re not my Stiles, but you’re Stiles.”

“Yeah, I’m from the past. God, this is weird.” Stiles buries his face against the pillow. “I traveled into the future now? What’s next?”

“Where did you come from?” Derek asks, and Stiles feels a hand at his cheek. 

“2013,” Stiles replies, turning his head to look at Derek again, to take in the way he seems to hold himself a bit better, like he’s finally been put back together the right way and that maybe, here, he’s _happy_. 

“When we first started dating,” Derek murmurs. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know, Derek, I really don’t know. I’d like to know, because this is fucking crazy and I want to go back. I loved meeting your sister and your parents. That was great. But I miss _my_ Derek. I’m sorry, I’m just—“

Derek shuts him up by running a thumb across his lips and Stiles looks at him with wide, pleading eyes. 

“Shh, it’s okay. How about we go get some breakfast? The kids need to eat before I take them to school.”

“Kids?” Stiles says weakly, his eyes growing wider.

“Come on,” Derek says, tugging him out of bed. Stiles goes willingly, feeling too shocked for anything else.

When he steps out of the room, two kids staring up at him with big smiles on their faces meet him. They both have dark hair and green eyes.

“Twins,” Derek whispers in his ear. “I’m sorry you traveled through time and this might be a big shock for you.”

“I’m okay,” Stiles manages out, staring down at them. He doesn’t know how to deal with _this_. 

Shit. They have _kids_. 

“Good,” Derek says and then turns to their kids and says, “Come on, lets go finish making breakfast and get you off to school. It’s your last day before winter break.”

Stiles stares after them, watches them walk down the hall and disappear around a corner and can’t believe what he’s actually seeing. 

\--

Later, after the kids are at school, they’re sitting at the dinning room table. Apparently this house they bought together after Stiles graduated from college. It’s not very big, but it’s the right size for a family of four. 

“How?” Stiles asks. “How do we have two kids?”

“We adopted. They were left orphaned after hunters killed a pack. We took them in when they were just babies.”

“Are you sure you should be telling me this?” Stiles asks. “I mean, it’s great and this makes me happy like you wouldn’t believe, but I was always afraid of telling you before about my time. I didn’t want to ruin anything. This won’t mess this up?”

“Do you think you’d want to mess this up from actually happening?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, but what about messing with time and causing a rift or something? What about that?”

“Telling you this won’t cause that to happen. It shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, but you don’t actually _know_ that. I’ve gone through so much, I still have nightmares from that fucking darkness that surrounds my heart. Losing all of this could happen, too.”

“You need to stop worrying,” Derek tries to assure him, reaching out to grab ahold of Stiles’ hand. “It gets better.”

“Do I still have nightmares? Does that get better?” Stiles asks.

“You still have them, but not like you used to. It gets better.” 

Stiles looks around at the picture frames scattered throughout the house, at the tiny molds of handprints hanging up in the dinning room, and the clear sign of domestic bliss that the house gives off. He looks back at Derek and says, “Okay.”

\--

Stiles falls asleep in Derek’s bed – _theirs_ , actually – and wakes up in the middle of the night with a scream trapped in his throat and covered in sweat. There’s a warm body against his back and arms around his waist. 

“Derek?”

“You haven’t had a nightmare like that in years,” Derek says. “I never liked it when you did. When we first started sleeping together, you’d wake up screaming and it always scared me. I didn’t know what to do that would help.”

“Just being there helped,” Stiles says, relaxing back against Derek. “Always helps.”

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

“Getting there,” Stiles says. 

“Do you need something to drink? I can go get you a bottle of water.”

“I’m okay, I just need a minute.” Stiles twists around until he’s looking right at Derek. “I think I might be understanding why all of this has been happening.”

“Yeah, and what is it?” Derek asks. 

“I think – you now how sometimes things happen and it’s for a reason? I think I’ve always been scared of losing you, and I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” Derek says. “You don’t lose me.”

“I know,” Stiles says. 

Derek rests his head against Stiles’ and Stiles feels a flutter in his chest at the contact. He wants to go home, so he can see his Derek, tell him all of this. 

“I haven’t told you yet in my time, but I love you,” Stiles says. “But I will tell you, whenever I get back.”

\--

Stiles wakes up in the middle of the woods, leaves stuck in his hair and mouth. There’s a crick in his neck that he’ll probably be feeling until next week. His head is pounding and swimming. 

Stiles has no idea if he’s somewhere else in time or back where he belongs. He stands up on shaky feet though, and heads out of the woods in search of anything at all. When he steps out of the woods, it’s Christmastime and it looks exactly like _his_ time that he wants to cry with relief. 

“What year is it?” Stiles asks the nearest person. It’s a little old lady who gives him a strange look, as if she’s wondering if Stiles hit his head.

“Stiles, dear, you ask such strange questions,” she says. “It’s 2013, and it’s Christmas Eve.”

“Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ ,” he tells her, a grin spreading across his face and relief flooding him. 

He starts running home when he realizes it’s _Christmas Eve_ and the last thing he remembered was that it was _four_ weeks before Christmas. Shit. 

\--

There’s nobody home when he gets there. The entire house is empty but the Christmas tree is still up and it’s fully decorated now. Stiles can even see the lights decorating the house. 

Stiles searches every where for his phone because he can’t remember where he sat it. He finds it on the table in the dinning room. He clicks onto Derek’s number and it rings only once before someone’s answering it.

“STILES,” he hears Derek more than yell through the line. “Where are you? Are you okay? What the hell happened?”

“I’m home,” Stiles says. “And I’m okay, just shaken up.”

“We’ll be right there,” Derek says and hangs up.

Ten minutes later, Derek is bursting through the front door and Stiles barely has a moment to take in the way he looks before Derek is hugging him tight. Derek pushes his face against Stiles’ throat.

“You’re not going to believe me,” Stiles starts.

“Try me.”

“I traveled through time,” Stiles says. “I went to 2004 and 2006. I even went into the future.”

“How?” Derek asks. “And where?”

“Kept popping up in different points of your life.” 

“You didn’t see—“ Derek trails off.

“I saw you before the fire and after. Not during. But I saw what it did to you. I met Laura. She was a great sister to you. She kept threatening me if I ever hurt you. She pulled the big sister routine. How does that feel?”

Derek laughs. “Laura was always like that, even before the fire. She once threatened a kid at school when she caught them making fun of me when I was with Paige.”

“I liked her, she reminded me of Erica.”

Derek falls silent after that. After a few minutes, Stiles hears his dad’s police cruiser pull up in the driveway and the car door slam shut. He hears other doors slam shut after that and Stiles knows the others are here too, all probably worried out of their minds but relieved. 

“Do you know how it happened? You were gone almost four weeks, Stiles. That was a long time.”

“I don’t know. I think magic, a curse maybe. I kept popping up when it was about a week or so before Christmas. The Hale house was beautiful back then. Your parents really liked to go all out, huh?”

“Yeah, it was a tradition of ours. We’d all pitch in to help decorate the house.”

“I don’t know how it happened and I was wondering why, and I think whatever that was, it was trying to tell me something. Kind of like reassure fears I didn’t realize I really had.”

“What do you mean?” Derek asks. “I didn’t know—“

“You didn’t, I didn’t really either. I just – I was afraid of losing you, Derek and every time you kept telling me that I won’t lose you.” 

“Did you find your answer?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Yeah, I did. With the future.”

“You won’t lose me,” Derek assures him. 

“I know,” Stiles says with a smile. He turns around to see as everyone else piles into the house, all with their questions. Stiles’ smile turns into a full out grin as he feels Derek’s hand lace with his. 

Later, when they’re all huddled close in the living room watching Christmas movies with takeout on the coffee table, Stiles leans close and whispers, “I love you,” in Derek’s ear. 

A smile pulls up at the corner of Derek’s mouth as he says it back.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://darkenednights.tumblr.com/)! If you want, come say hi. :)


End file.
